


Without Lies

by Pannon



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Spoilers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pannon/pseuds/Pannon
Summary: The party finds themselves in a world without lies.
Relationships: Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103
Collections: 2020 KuroFai Olympics - Fluff vs Angst





	Without Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Third year doing the KuroFai olympics! Thanks for reading! I am sorry I had to rush so much on this one, I really wanted to expand the world, and may do some future edits on this one. In the mean time, please enjoy!

Words are a funny thing. 

They can be honey-sweet or ashes in the mouth; easy to twist as a knife between the ribs, and no less painful. Or soothing half-truths that comfort in the moment, but linger uneasy in cold, lonely moments. 

Fai has long ago learned to play them carefully, to use them to his advantage, to distance himself, but far too often, the lies are so smooth he half-believes them himself. Like a weaver at their loom, or a blacksmith at the forge, words are his medium and his lips the tool, but even a seasoned craftsman slips from time to time. 

The twin worlds of Shura and Shara had been a challenge, perhaps, but it was much easier to stay silent. There were no lies if there were no words. But Shura might as well be another lifetime now. In Shura he’d let himself trust, relied on Kurogane to do the talking, and was happy to play the part he was given. 

Falsehoods shattered once they reached Tokyo and left him bare, scrambling to rebuild walls he could feel safe behind. Words that pierced, words that tore, words that left gaping wounds behind, peppered with infectious lies. It was better, he thought, to be wounded than it was to be cursed, mad, or  _ dead _ . And if he hurts the ones he cared for, it was the smallest pain he could offer them. If they got any closer, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t fall prey to the misfortune that had followed him all his life. 

Now, as they enter the city limits of Plathe, the bracelet that circles his wrist might as well be a heavy manacle, or even a weight around his neck. The feather’s power manifests in varied and sometimes cruel ways, becoming what there’s most need of, granting wishes with all the grace of a monkey’s paw and this world was no different. 

Just what events could lead to an enchantment that forced truth from every citizen? 

He adjusted the bracelet again, fitted snug against his thin wrist. Some sort of bespelled silver, resonating with the feather’s power like tiny beacons throughout the city. They were required to enter Plathe, and no amount of begging, bartering, or bribing would clear the way without one. Fai knew it well; he’d been at it for a couple of hours now. When it ended fruitlessly, he’d accepted the tiny shackle, but after only minutes, it chafed with the hanging threat it represented. 

Once the bracelet was applied, that wasn’t even the end of things, no. Apparently his behavior fell on suspicious territory, no matter how he smiled and chatted amiably with the officers at the city limits. 

“Your name?”

“They call me Fai D. Flourite,” he insists, and it’s not technically a lie, but neither does it pass their scrutiny. 

“Being called such doesn’t make it true. What is your name, sir?”

  
Now he sat, a dull-eyed man across a plain table from him, though the questions he fired were sharp and quick, and the bracelet had already reacted to his lies a number of times, leaving red welts along the length of his arm. The little piece of jewelry reacted to lies like a spark on dry paper, and his bare arm was alight with them. Fai was growing ever more eager to leave, his vampire’s blood bubbling beneath the surface, eager to heal the injuries, and he could only hope he was freed before they saw just how suspiciously fast he recovered. 

“...Yuui,” he breathes in defeat. His only consolation that none of his traveling companions are here to hear it. 

“It’s really not so difficult, is it?”

Fai glances up at him with a single eye, golden and sharp, and doesn’t reply. 

“Purpose of your visit?”

“I want to explore the legendary city of Plathe, of course,” his eye narrows, and he’s glad that smiling when he doesn’t feel it won’t count against him as another lie. 

The bracelet remains inert, confirming his reply. 

“How long will you be staying?”

“I haven’t decided,” Fai says evenly. 

“Are you traveling alone?”

“ _ No _ ,” he forces calm into his voice, “I was with a group when I arrived. We’re traveling together.”

“Are you carrying any weapons?”

“I’m not carrying any weapons, no,” he repeats the question back. Carrying, no. It hardly meant that his own body wasn’t more than weapon enough. But he hadn’t asked that. 

“Is there any reason we should consider you dangerous?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Anyone can be dangerous,” he sighs. 

The questions go on, increasingly invasive, and by the time he’s released, he’s exhausted, pulling his sleeve down to cover the red welts, a few of them weeping blood after one too many mis-steps. 

It’s some small comfort when the Princess favors him with a smile, though Syaoran casts a worried look, and Kurogane… Kurogane runs his eyes over Fai in a way that makes him feel like something dirty, then turns away, leading them toward the accommodations they’ve arranged. (more details about how they found a place to stay). Mokona hovers nearby, but decides to stay on Sakura’s shoulder. 

It’s of some relief to see that this world is untouched yet, by the magic of his other eye or the rampant destruction of the boy who’d lost his heart. Which means they will go through the same steps, the same routine they once relied upon before everything changed; find a way to fit in, at least while they search for this world’s feather, and brace themselves for whatever trial might await them. Oh, and don’t forget about trading in some of their goods from previous worlds, so the time-witch could outfit them with suitable clothing and whatever form of money the world used. 

With just such funds in hand, they split the party to seek out a place to stay and food for the duration, and as has become custom since Tokyo, Fai accompanies the princess, and Kurogane goes with Syaoran. Mokona decides to hop along and follow Fai’s team today, held safely in Sakura’s hands, under the guise of a plush toy. She knew how to play her part well, which was a relief, given their inability to lie effectively here if she was found out. 

There were some advantages, he supposed, to all of this truth, at least as far as buying and selling goods. There was no cheating, prices were fair, and even with the little money they had, they were able to buy enough supplies to last their little group through what he hoped was the length of their stay. 

More important though, was picking up information about the city. Points of interest, foods to try, and the more of the city they could cover, the closer they’d be to discovering just where the feather was held, and what obstacles might be in their way. 

The results are, well, no more or less difficult than they imagined. There’s a complex, far below the city, a number of obstacles in the way, and more risk than they could ever think to subject the children to. It didn’t take more than a flicker of eye-contact to make the decision, deep cerulean blue meeting blood-red. 

  * \- - 



“Is this going to be a problem?” Kurogane huffs later, as the others have tucked in for the night, and he and Fai pack their few belongings to infiltrate the central complex. Mokona has been a handy storage locker, but Kurogane seems much more at ease to have a sword in hand. 

“Don’t ask a vague question unless you want a vague answer, Kurogane,” he returns, easing his way around answering the question at all. It’s been much more difficult to speak here, much more work and thought not to give himself away. But there are work-arounds, there always are. 

“Fine,” he replies sourly, turning red eyes in Fai’s direction, “can I trust you not to jump into harm’s way or try some stupid self-sacrificing bullshit?”

Fai doesn’t answer. And that alone is answer enough. 

Kurogane grumbles something under his breath about being better off going alone, and Fai can’t say much in return because it’s not  _ exactly _ untrue. He doesn’t plan to hinder them; any feather they find will at best, help Sakura, and at the very least, keep it from the hands of others. Kurogane might not trust him, but he must know that much. 

“Are you hungry?”

A single blue eye narrows, flickering gold and dangerous in the low-light. 

“You need your strength,” Fai answers, again, without confirming or denying. 

“So, yes,” Kurogane growls again. 

  
Fai can’t help being a little envious. Kurogane hasn’t had the slightest issue with this most recent curse. It’s not surprising, the ninja has always been blunt and straightforward, hiding little of his actions or motives, wearing his emotions on his sleeve, so to speak. The bit of enchanted jewelry has been just that, jewelry. As for Fai, he can only thank his quickened healing abilities and his talent for keeping the majority of his pain unspoken. He’s had welts up and down his arm since they arrived, and was quick to request long-sleeved clothing when they’d suited up. 

“I won’t drink right now,” Fai insists tightly, and the bracelet lays dormant, accepting that as truth. He doesn’t follow up with  _ later _ , or  _ after _ , or  _ soon _ , because those are half-truths at best and they both know it. 

Those dark red eyes study him for much longer than he’d like, and this is where Fai would have once broken the tension with jokes or flirtation or incessant teasing. Instead the moment remains, and he feels those eyes burn into him and can only look away. 

“Can I trust you?” Kurogane asks once more, and Fai doesn’t have to look up to know the sort of face he’s making. Angry, of course, but with hints of softness around the edges that no one else seems to notice.  _ Worried _ , he recognizes,  _ pained _ , he knows, and can do nothing for it without breaking his unspoken rules. 

Don’t let them any closer. Keep your distance. It’s safer if they hate you. 

“Yes,” he says, intending to be spiteful, and is galled instead when the bracelet remains inert. He can see Kurogane’s brows raise in something that looks fearfully like hope, and he’s quick to add, “but you really shouldn’t.”

There’s a measure of relief and a pang of regret, when that too, proves truth. 




“From what we could learn, the central complex has three parts. Two open during the day, low enough security for general tourism, but they don’t allow anyone into the final chamber. I assume that’s where the feather is being kept,” he whispers, waiting close in the shadows. Plathe might have incredibly low crime-rates because of how difficult it is to lie or get away with much of anything, but it also has low security. Why bother to keep things carefully locked up when the thief can’t hide the crime afterward? Not every criminal had the luxury of stepping away into another world once their thievery was complete. 

Kurogane grunts his understanding, a weighty presence at his side, but no less silent in his approach. He does, occasionally, live up to his title as a fearsome ninja, and Fai can already tell he’s mapped out their options for infiltration and which route will get them inside with the least amount of noise or alerted guards. 

“First is a keycard we don’t have, unless we want to enter somewhere besides the front door, second, heading down the main elevator without getting caught,” Fai shrugs, “and third… could be anything. When Sakura and I came earlier, it seemed a simple, glass chamber, the feather on display within, but there’s something else there as well.”

There was the immense power he’d come to easily recognize in Sakura’s feathers, yes, but there was something else beyond that, something that had merged its own magic with the feather’s power. It was also surely yet another reason for their lax security measures. 

If any of that gave Kurogane reason to reconsider, it didn’t show the slightest in his expression, they were only elements to add to the equation, obstacles to be overcome. The longer it took for anyone to realize they were there, the more time they’d have to find the feather, and with any luck, time to escape once more. As good as Kurogane’s skills may be, he didn’t have experience with every bit of modern tech, nor magic-related security systems, and the central complex could very well have both. 

When Kurogane presses forward, Fai follows, close as a shadow and just as silent. They don’t need words to read one another’s movements, if their time in Shura hadn’t cemented the way they moved in battle, there were a dozen other fights that followed, each more telling than the last.

The guards go down easily, though, Fai thinks, that’s hardly surprising. Kurogane’s barely even bruised them, just tied them up with bits of their own uniforms and shoved them unceremoniously behind the nearest set of bushes. Fai rummages for a keycard, and together they slip past the first set of doors. 

No alarm bells ring or buzzers sound, not even a flicker of errant magic signals their presence, and they hurry wordlessly to the bank of elevators. Kurogane reaches for the button to call it, but a crackle of magic flits to life, blocking their path with an array of glowing runes, and he retreats, as if bitten. 

“Can you do anything about that?” Kurogane huffs. 

The answer is  _ yes _ , and they both know it, and after the confrontation in Tokyo, know just as well how reluctant Fai is to do so. He could justify using a quick whistle to protect the children, in LeCourt, or even the full strength of his sealing runes to try to keep Syaoran’s heart intact, but this was far less dire. 

“I  _ can _ ,” he replies cooly, “but I won’t.”

Just as before, his bracelet doesn’t react, and Kurogane only snorts his annoyance briefly before adapting. If the buttons were off-limits, it didn’t mean the elevator shaft was, and Kurogane uses the fine steel of his blade as a wedge to pry the doors open, revealing cables and empty space. It looks like the elevator car is near the bottom, as Fai leans closer to look, and Kurogane shoots him a frustrated glare before wrapping one of the bands from his wrist around his palm instead, and leaping out to grab the cable. He catches it, with no more effort than breathing, and starts to slide recklessly down toward the building’s depths, not sparing another glance for Fai. 

The magician is far less careful, scraping the flesh of his palms raw as he follows, and within moments they both land atop the car. They’ve visited enough worlds to know how the things function, even if they’re far less sophisticated than Daidouji’s creations, and it takes only a handful of seconds to work their way inside, and for Kurogane to wedge the door once more. 

The floor opens onto a wide and mostly empty area, tiled floor and support pillars are all that decorate the space, lined in neat, mathematical rows. And, at the end, what looks like a glass room, pulsing with magic, and no visible way inside. Beyond the glass, a pedestal, where Sakura’s feather floats, surrounded by its own bubble of magic and silver filigree. The same silver winds down the pedestal like veins into the ground, and, Fai notes, resonates with the silver of his bracelet. Of course. 

Kurogane starts patting around the glass, searching for weak points before he simply draws his sword and swings, heavy and brutish. Rather than rebound, it’s like cutting into thick sludge, and he has to work at it for several minutes before he can pull it free. 

Fai puts an open palm to it, still hot with skinned palms, but more than enough to get a sense of whatever magic it’s using to protect itself. It doesn’t  _ count _ , he thinks, simply to evaluate the spells bound to it, it’s not as if he’s using his own magic to break them, or skirt around their wards.

“What is it?” Kurogane asks, once Fai has had a moment to untangle the threads that weave the spell together, to decipher and make sense of them. 

If it’s possible, Fai has grown a shade paler, gaze wavering as he realizes what the barrier requires to enter. He could break it, he’s sure, but it would take a considerable amount of magic. The alternative then… 

“What else?” Fai steadies his tone, “it wants the truth.”

“So what? That’s nothing,” Kurogane scoffs, already taking a step toward the glass. 

Fai holds up a hand to stop him, and Kurogane’s eyes narrow, flicking from his injured palm, to his single blue eye. 

“Not just any truth,” he clarifies, “it wants the truth you’ve tried hardest to hide. Your deepest secret.”

Kurogane wrinkles his nose, but looks thoughtful at that, considering.  _ As if Kurogane truly has so much to hide _ , he thinks. Fai, on the other hand, can’t seem to narrow it down to  _ only one _ . Which secret truth is most devastating? Which can he not stand to reveal? 

“I don’t  _ keep _ secrets,” Kurogane’s voice is a low growl, and Fai can’t help a tiny flicker of satisfaction when the bracelet on the ninja’s wrist crackles with magic energy and leaves an angry red welt on his bare arm. 

“Oh?” Fai counters, giving him a slow and lingering look, “looks like you might have to re-evaluate that. And quickly.”

No alarms had sounded just yet, but who knew how long they had until the guards were discovered? 

Kurogane looks down at his wrist as if his hand has betrayed him. He didn’t so much as grunt at the pain of the punishing welt, clearly more upset at the fact that it believes he’s  _ lied _ , than the injury itself. 

When he looks back up at Fai, the intensity of his gaze is startling, and though Fai has certainly leveled a number of hungry gazes in Kurogane’s direction that have everything to do with his vampiric body, he didn’t think he’d see one in return. 

The ninja reaches out a hand to press against the glass, and unlike when he’d struck a blow before, it remains solid, unyielding, but his eyes never leave Fai’s face, and the magician can feel his throat constrict, tight with uncertainty. 

“I… cover your ears,” Kurogane, for once, is the one who looks away first, and if Fai didn’t know better, he’d swear he saw a faint flush to the other man’s skin.

Unsettled, Fai does as he’s asked, brows knit together. He even glances away, for what little privacy that affords. Unfortunately, it means he’s not entirely sure when Kurogane has finished speaking whatever secret he’s holding onto, and he catches the last of it as he starts to pull his hands away from his ears. 

“- _ him. And nothing he does will change that _ ,” Kurogane finishes, and the glass wall gives suddenly, pulling him through, and leaves Fai blinking and alone, on the outside. 




Moments pass, and Kurogane spares only a fleeting backward glance before he advances, walking determinedly toward the pedestal. 

It does, of course, leave Fai alone to contemplate his own secrets. Where Kurogane could probably count the number of secrets he kept on one hand, Fai had far too many to sort through, to consider, to worry over. Which was the most dire? Each one threatened to crumble what little was left of him, should it come to light. 

He could wait here, Kurogane wasn’t far from the feather now, and surely it wouldn’t take more than a handful of moments for him to return with it. But the closer Kurogane gets, the heavier, and more oppressive the aura of powerful magic becomes, and Fai can only hesitate, hands fisting and trembling uselessly at his sides. 

For all his warrior training, Kurogane doesn’t seem to notice how the shadows grow behind him, lengthening and becoming solid. Fai tries to pound on the glass, to make any sort of noise to get him to turn around and see it, but the noise doesn’t appear to carry, and his fists end up stuck, the glass gone gooey again, now that it was under threat of physical violence. Fai curses under his breath, distracted from his own secrets, and whatever Kurogane’s might have been, as he watches the danger approach. 

The shadow’s form grows, warping and taking mass, a vaguely human shape that becomes more real by the second. Fai can feel his stomach sink as it becomes  _ familiar _ , the very face he sees in the mirror each morning, matching every whit, down to the dark clothes and eyepatch.

Fai thrashes against the glass, trying to get his fists free, blurting secret after secret into the ethers, but none seem to be what the enchantment wants. Valeria, Celes, his twin brother, but try as he might to speak of the curses that plague him, or where they may have come from, the words won’t leave his mouth, other magics at work that keep those secrets deeply placed and hidden. 

Fai can only watch, as Kurogane finally turns to his double, just in time to see its claws grow, and slash wickedly through Kurogane’s abdomen. He stumbles back, and it’s hard to see how deep the wound was, or how much blood he’s lost. Fai can’t even smell it, through the enchanted glass, and he lets out a frustrated cry before pursing his lips, whistling several sharp notes, glittering runes forming at his fists. He hardly needs to do more than twitch his fingers before the magic bursts through, shattering the entire dome in a brilliant flash of blue and silver light. 

He can feel blood at the back of his throat, a new sensation, and one he ought to perhaps be more concerned about, but he doesn’t hesitate a second longer, running toward the two figures as the glass crashes around them. 

Fai’s claws are out before he’s taken a handful of steps, wickedly long and sharp and he launches himself toward his double, golden eye flashing. The scent of blood,  _ Kurogane’s blood _ , hangs heavy in the air, exciting a wild energy in him, a desperate thirst. The smile of his mirrored face grows unnaturally wide, contorting and growing jagged teeth, but Fai doesn’t so much as flinch, slashes quick and aimed for vital points. Even halved, his power far outweighs the creature, which seems the only thought that sustains him in the violent and desperate way he fights. Magic sparks around him, barely restrained, and begging to be used, control thread-thin, pulled taut and tenuous. 

And  _ that’s _ the thought that flickers through his mind, drawing the magic tight, as the runes follow the elegant flex of his fingers, wrapping the creature, screaming, in lines of glowing sigils and pulling hard,  _ harder _ . Alarms are blaring, an angry shriek, but he doesn’t hear it, he doesn’t hear anything as those threads reach a trembling tension, pausing, almost in anticipation, before they tear  _ through  _ the creature, obliterating it in seconds. 

He’s hardly aware of the passage of time, but comes crashing back to reality when Kurogane’s fist meets the side of his head. It’s jarring,  _ meant  _ to be, and he seems to see the other man for the first time since entering the now-wasted glass dome. Fai’s eye flicks from his face to the wound, to the blood around Kurogane’s fingers, and he stomps down the hunger, turning away to busy himself with fetching the feather so they can leave before anything else tries to overwhelm them. 




The escape, is thankfully far less exciting than their infiltration, the magic of the entire building seeming to weaken now that the power source has vanished. Kurogane’s wound is tied off as they ride the elevator up, and Fai has to fight down the urge not to lick his fingers, at least, not until they’ve found safety. 

It’s already creeping past midnight when they return to their room, and at least both of them can agree to keep silent. The kids have taken a separate room each, and neither Kurogane nor Fai feel much need to retell the story or explain the bloody clothing. 

“You’re still hungry, aren’t you?”

“I-” Fai’s resolve weakens, then crumbles entirely. Damn Kurogane and his attention to every detail. He tries to hold onto some semblance of control, all the same. 

“Sit back,” Fai orders, and for once, Kurogane  _ listens _ , wincing slightly at the wounds across his stomach. 

As they’ve found out, over several awkward feeding sessions, a vampire’s  _ bait  _ may not heal as quickly as the vampire, but if Fai had to wait for every wound to heal at the rate of an ordinary human before he could feed again, he’d slowly starve. Whatever it was, the saliva, the teeth, the tongue, the wounds would close, at least, and while it wasn’t a perfect solution, it was less painful and less work and less scarring than trying to suture them shut. 

“Get on with it,”Kurogane growls, eyes closed, fists at his sides as if he’s preparing to endure something terrible. 

Fai hums a soft assent, glad he doesn’t have to try to hide his face or his thirst as he kneels between Kurogane’s legs, then reaches for the sticky, shredded remains of Kurogane’s shirt. The ninja lets out a soft hiss, and it’s quite lucky his wound isn’t worse; owed, no doubt to the man’s quick reflexes. Still, it’s deep into the tissue in places, and Fai can see Kurogane’s fists tighten when he leans forward, resting his open hands on Kurogane’s thighs. 

There’s a pang of hunger that flares, deep and abiding, and the first drag of his tongue is like cool water in a dry, dry desert. He can feel each twitch of muscle and slow, quivering breath as he continues, sealing the cuts. There’s so much wasted blood, and though his appetite has been curbed, it seems a shame to leave behind, and without giving it much thought, he moves on, tongue slick over the hills and valleys of Kurogane’s muscular abdomen. 

There’s a tension that rises, Kurogane’s muscles drawn tighter by the moment, and he doesn’t get far before there’s a hand on his head, pushing him back, intent made clear. He blinks a few times, shaken from the haze of his bloodlust, but he doesn’t give Kurogane the satisfaction of startling or running right away. 

He takes his time standing, licking the remains from his fingers before he so much as glances at Kurogane, who seems to be fumbling for a clean shirt. 

“Who would’ve thought,” Fai says, after a beat, “that even Kurogane has secrets he’s holding onto.”

Kurogane only narrows his eyes, no hiding the nerve Fai has touched upon, but he shakes his head, “I didn’t think it was a secret...”

- _ him. And nothing he does will change that _ ...

The bits Fai had heard from whatever precious secret were enough to make him pause, to let it play in the paranoid edges of his mind, but if Kurogane hated him now, then so be it. Fai had given him more than enough reasons to dislike him, and whatever obligation he held, whatever hero complex he’d concocted, it wasn’t as if Fai would blame him for abandoning him anywhere along the way. 

Those red eyes linger on him, and he recognizes it, that same dark gaze he’d fixed Fai with, before telling him to cover his ears, to keep him from listening in. It’s enough to make him step back, wary and uncertain. 

“Hm, that you can’t stand me? I know already,” Fai retreats, “I’m the type of person you hate the most.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, then a click of tongue as Kurogane pushes himself up from his chair. A pause that lingers far too long. 

“You really are an idiot,” Kurogane sighs, and turns to leave.


End file.
